


Unseelie

by kemenios, killerxxqueen



Category: Maleficent (2014), Sleeping Beauty (1959)
Genre: F/M
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2015-01-09
Updated: 2016-07-04
Packaged: 2018-03-06 21:36:33
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 14,193
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3149300
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/kemenios/pseuds/kemenios, https://archiveofourown.org/users/killerxxqueen/pseuds/killerxxqueen
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>He loved her.  She loved him.  Neither were able to admit it until their little Aurora was crowned and they were free from constraints.  A one-shot continuation of what happened after the beautiful story of everyone's favorite villain. </p><p>Contains wonderful fluffy smut.  You have been warned.  </p><p>Written by myself and the wonderful @kemenios.</p><p>UPDATE 7/6/2016 - NO LONGER JUST A ONE SHOT!  :D  CHAPTER 2 IS UP!  We couldn't resist continuing!</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> Just note, this is a raw RP log! If there are any errors I have missed, please message me so I can fix them!

The Moors were most beautiful at night. She always believed that, down in the deepest part of her. Aglow with all the finery of the night court, shimmering blues and violets dancing among the darkness, reflected in the glittering waters of the lakes and merging with the bright pinpricks of stars. From here, along the mossy banks, she saw only unending splendor, and she wondered how -- for the longest time -- she had allowed herself to forget it. Or rather, to ignore it.

And though she basked in the sun, she was made for the moon; of that, there was no doubt in her mind.

There had been much celebration since Aurora’s coronation. Celebration that stretched on through many nights and many days, for the fae folk had little else over which to concern themselves. Maleficent, for her own part, removed herself but by Aurora’s request. She lingered only as long as her daughter’s attentions remained, and then slipped back into the forests for as much solitude as she was allowed.

She’d left Diaval to the festivities this time, elected to slink into the night without his company. He was not unwelcome, but he had no obligation to her any longer. He would need to find his own place among the fae now, and he would never blaze his own paths with her stigma overshadowing him.

The fae were magnanimous, forgiving, but Maleficent’s cruelty would linger in their minds for quite some time.

And so she sat alone, bare feet soaking in the gentle tide as the lake water seeped along her skirts. She watched the brilliance from afar, and remembered a time when she could be part of it, remembered that she was only tolerated now by the grace of Aurora’s wishes. Even still, despite her self-imposed exclusion, she felt her calm. At peace.

Vindicated.

He was never very far from her. So many years spent spying on the newly-crowned Queen of the Moors, but in the end he always returned to the fae who’d saved him. Always. A vow was a vow. Diaval had pledged his life to the service of the strongest fae that lived, even when he hated what she would turn him into. Time spent as a mangy wolf had been the worst, the most worrying had been the dragon wrapped in those chains. 

The raven didn’t wish to find his way amongst the fairy courts. 

He wished only to remain at her side. Diaval flapped his wings, coming to rest on a branch just above Maleficent, cawing and interrupting the silence of her surroundings. He was always irritating like that. 

The raven could change if he wanted to, but he waited for his lady to do it. 

“Back again, Diaval?”

She had hoped he would stay. Linger with their people, if only for a short while. Outsider, lackey; it would be no small task to rid himself of that taint, and -- distressingly -- he seemed to have no desire to do so. She raised one hand to him, the silent signal for him to alight before she sent the magic out to him. Back to a man, tall and dark, standing beside her on the lakeshore.

“I told you to mingle,” she chided, though her heart wasn’t entirely in it. “They’ll never embrace you, if you refuse to walk among them. I’ve released you.”

And just like your curse, my pledge is one you cannot revoke.” 

His grin was impish as he dug his bare toes into the damp sand. It was feeling he did not get to experience often, but enjoyed thoroughly. There were things he could experience as a human that he could not as a raven. Diaval glanced down to her, sharp cheekbones that complimented such a beautiful face. Angled, sharp, and lovely. “And you released me, I can choose to follow whatever orders I please.” 

“Helpful suggestion,” she corrected him. “It was never an order.”

There would be no more orders. She no longer needed his wings or his eyes; with her own returned -- now curled in a makeshift alcove around her -- she had her run of the kingdoms once more. The headwinds and the lowlands, lake and forest and dale, castle and ruin, all open to her once more.

But lack of need did not imply lack of want.

“The nights have not been this bright in so long.” Maleficent pushed her feet deeper into the waters. “I suppose I robbed them of this. They won’t soon forget that.”

“Aurora will make them forget with the brilliance of her smile.” He took a chance, running his finger tips over the very tip of her wings. Beautiful in this light, particularly stunning when he followed her up to the head winds and watched her bask in the sunlight. Diaval knelt down next to her, extending his hand to do something he’d never dared do before. He lightly traced the edge of her hand, marveling at how very soft that pale flesh was. 

She had done so many things with her hands. Fallen for a human, invoked the most powerful of curses, saved an innocent life. Saved his own life. “You should not let this guilt consume you as much as it has. You have done much to redeem yourself.” 

“Redemption.” She mused. “What an interesting thing to call it.”

Soft. Warm. Somehow, she had not expected that of Diaval’s touch. Point in fact, she had not expected Diaval’s touch at all. It came as a gentle thrill of sensation, a gentle sort of magic that flowed from his fingers and sent a shiver down her spine. First wing, and then hand, and while Maleficent had not invited any of the unbidden caresses, they were nevertheless surprisingly welcomed.

She could find no reason to protest it. Her very soul was weary of fighting, and she wished only to find some small measure of peace in the wake of tragedy and triumph. Her fingers twitched, slipped across his own, until they were carefully laced, and she stared down at them, as if they were some alien thing.

It had been a very long time since she’d known the touch of a man.

“Do you really think so highly of me?” 

“I would think highly of anyone who would save a lowly raven from a farmer’s net.” His smile was brilliant when their fingers interlaced, her soft skin against his own scarred flesh. Diaval would certainly go to hell and back for this fairy. She had spent so many years in pain and anger, all for the sake of betrayal. Maleficent would come to trust him implicitly in time, when the stain of Stefan had truly washed away. For now, the raven could be happy simply to remain nearest the fairest of the fae. 

Diaval took another chance, quickly leaning towards her to steal a kiss. His lips pressed to her cheek. “I would go to hell and back for you.” 

Genuine shock was a rare face for Maleficent to wear. But Diaval’s lips found her cheek, and there it was surely enough: brow rising, eyes flashing for the briefest moment, before her expression knit quickly to confusion. Affection was unfamiliar to her; strange and new, and certainly never displayed so fragrantly by Diaval before.

“There’s no need for hell, now,” she mused, casting him a suspicious glance-over.

Still, she shifted, and one massive wing came around Diaval, to huddle him closer and sheathe him within the warm alcove of her feathers. Their own little world, just like that; staring out across the glittering waters from deep within the wrap of her wings.

“Are you ill, Diaval?” 

He cocked his head to the side, the movement jerky and precise, just like his more feathered form. Curious as to why she would ask such a thing. In all the years he’d served her, he had never been sick or fallen ill. “I watched a human do that years ago, and I’ve wanted to kiss your cheek ever since.” The smile still there even when her strong wing brought him into the fold, feeling the warmth of her skin. It felt heavenly to finally feel such heat. He was certain that it was safe to display such affections, now that they were free to do as they pleased. 

There was no paranoid Stefan to worry about, no human army come to tear them apart. The kingdoms were united and at peace. He was free to bask in her beauty and grace, and show her his affections. “Why do you ask if I am ill?”

“You’re acting strangely.”

Strangely, though not necessarily badly. Her tone implied little more than passing concern, not chiding so much as pleasantly puzzled. Though Diaval had a habit of surprising her. It was one of the few traits that kept him bearable for nigh on two decades. And not merely bearable, but Maleficent’s most trusted companion.

Her chosen companion, no less; she was rarely sure what to make of that, or of their meaning to one another.

“Do you know, Aurora calls me her fairy godmother. What does that make you, I wonder?”

He couldn’t help the grin, leaning to gently rest his head on her shoulder and stare out at the glittering waters under the moonlight. “Her friend, I guess. She has called me such on several occasions when I am a bird in front of her.” Diaval was not frightened, not right now. Maleficent had long since abandoned any designs on terrifying her long time companion. The raven just wanted some measure of comfort now, the comfort of his lady’s touch and presence. It was soothing, despite her confusion of why he was so bold all of a sudden. 

“My lady, what is it you wish me to be?”

“Does it really matter what I wish you to be?”

Maleficent could make Diaval into anything, and therein lay the most depressing irony of their relationship. Even with such power over him, fae queen or no, she expected nothing. Not anymore. The time for orders was over, and requests? She hadn’t the heart to ask anything of him, after the torment he’d endured at her hands.

She didn’t understand why he still lingered now; why he wasn’t embracing his freedom with every fiber of his being.

“But if I am her fairy godmother,” she mused, “I suppose that would make you her corvid godfather.”

“It matters because I wish to know, if I am to remain a godfather to the new queen of the Moors. We will still have to look after her. The pixies are far too scattered-brained for such a thing.” Utterly sure of himself and his place in the world right now. He would never stop being Maleficent’s right hand man, bird...whatever she needed. Making that pledge all of those years ago had been a magnificent decision, even through the painful times. Diaval knew they wouldn’t last forever. 

The moment that child was born, it would have either been her undoing or her salvation. The raven, for one, was glad it was the latter. He poked her in the side, playful and mischievous as always. Just like a raven, though at least now, he wouldn’t get his innards ripped out for such a thing. “You are far too somber for such a beautiful night.” 

“I am permitted my melancholy, so leave me to it.”

Her attention turned back to the lake, down to the water lapping at her feet and leaving a tracery of luminescent blue across both flesh and gown. Despite the admonishment, despite his prodding, Maleficent’s wing wound more tightly around Diaval, almost cradling him within a warm nest of dark feathers.

True enough, she wasn’t quite sure how to enjoy herself any longer. Genuine smiles had abandoned her long ago, hand-in-hand with her notions of love. She had, after all, only just begun to believe in true love again. She supposed she would have to learn happiness again, to trust and to love, and it all felt like far too monumental an endeavor.

“There is such-- such happiness in her,” Maleficent murmured. “An abundance of unquestioning trust and love. Innocence.

“I fear for that part of her. It will not serve her well, if ever she returns to the humans.”

“I think you should have more faith in her. She can recognize when someone will do her harm, but unlike you, it will not drive her to a dark place. Aurora is strong in ways we will never be.” Diaval relished the feeling and the warmth of her wings. So much stronger than his own, though he was no less able to fly where she could. He squeezed her hand, “And I believe you should have more faith in yourself.” The raven wanted nothing more than for Maleficent to enjoy the moonlight, smile when the sun shone on her face. Be open to the feelings of others. 

He knew she couldn’t see it.

Diaval was in love--

and had been for years. 

But love would be no easy task for Maleficent. She had never sought it out; wouldn’t even know what to look for, if the signs were begging her attention. Who could hold her accountable for that? After suffering the worst manner of betrayal, at the hands of one who’d claimed love in deceit? But Diaval was close. By her side for nearly twenty years, sharing in every dark and secret part of her, pressed close to her side and encased within the safety of her wing. This was not an intimacy she spared lightly.

Perhaps it was not so impossible after all.

“Faith in myself is reserved for her,” Maleficent sighed, and leaned forward to push her free hand through the water. “It’s good for little else, I’m afraid.” 

The raven thought nothing of darting in front of her, pecking her lips with his own. Playful birds, intelligent and loyal. Most of the time, at least. He succeeded in bowling her over, but did his best to ensure nothing happened to her beautiful wings. Diaval spoke softly, “Spare a little for yourself, at least. I want to see you smile again.” 

And, if nothing else, it earned him an expression that was some baffling cross between shock, confusion, horror, and intrigue. It was rare to see her face take such dynamic form, rarer still for it to linger; to stay its course and turn itself slowly to puzzled recognition, and then cautious understanding. She searched his dark eyes for confirmation, her own flashing like sunlight through peridot.

In defiance of her wishes, in direct contradiction to her every expectation, love was seeking her again. And suddenly, it was not such a frivolous belief. Sprawled on the ground beneath him, wings shifting in protest beneath her -- twitching and writhing to find a place of comfort under her their weight -- she found her heart skipping over itself in enamored beat.

“You want to see me smile again,” she repeated the words slowly, struggling to make sense of them. 

“I wish to see you smile again. Like you did with Aurora, but...with me.” He tried to move with her, so he would not crush her wings nor cause her pain. Diaval reclined his hips to the side of her own as he hovered, watching her face contort in confusion and then recognition and finally more confusion. He had not seen her happy with Stefan, but how could a human male ever truly make a fey like Maleficent happy? There was too much ambition and greed in humans. 

Though he wore a human form, Diaval was far from human. 

He kissed her again, pleased that she was not changing him into a beetle and stepping on him. 

It was the kisses that stayed her hand. She had not been kissed in so long, and certainly never like this. Diaval’s kisses were warm, they were sweet and unassuming, they lingered against her lips and demanded nothing. A raven who walked in the flesh of a man, a being brought speech by fae magic, and he rendered her speechless -- thoughtless, breathless -- more completely than Stefan ever had.

Perhaps it was that thoughtlessness that drove her hands to move, to find Diaval’s face and trace the raised edges of his scars, drove her to press her lips back against his insistence, and beckon him down more fully among the soft mossy groundcover. Madness, perhaps; temporary though it was, because her confusion trumped curiosity, and she drew away again, rested her head among the moss to stare askance at her companion.

“What are you doing?” 

When the kiss was returned, Diaval felt his heart skip and he marveled at her confusion. What was there to be mystified about? He couldn’t help but close his black eyes and lay back with her, he would have to be very blunt and very gentle. This was not the same as courting a female raven. He could not simply pick up a shiny pebble, build an extravagant nest, and win himself a mate. He would have to go about this in a more human fashion. 

She had been enchanted by the innocence of Stefan’s youth when she was young. Perhaps now she could be enchanted by Diaval’s devotion and loyalty. 

“I am attempting to court you, my lady.” His black eyes went to the stars, “Though regretfully, I have no dance arranged for you, nor anything to attract your beautiful eye. I can only offer you my loyalty, and charming demeanor.” She could hear the grin form in his final words and he stiffened, waiting for an impending smack for being so cheeky. 

Perhaps under normal circumstances, he would have gotten just that. But these circumstances were about as abnormal as any she could imagine. Attempting to court you. As if she had ever been courted, as if she were even capable. She didn’t know how to be courted any more than Diaval knew how to court. In that, they were evenly matched.

Still, as the doubt receded, the intrigue grew.

“Court me?” The barest hint of a smile played along the edges of her lips. “Well, isn’t that interesting? I doubt you would know what to make of me, Diaval. You’re not seeking some darling housewife.”

Then again, Diaval was intimately familiar with that fact.

“You gave me this form. You gave me speech. Certainly you know what to make of me then, my lady.” 

He grinned at her, moving to sit up before he rooted down into the pool of gems, getting his clothing soaked as he pulled up all manner of shiny stones. Diaval would return them, eventually. After he was done. She was left to sit there for a few minutes, to wonder why her raven was suddenly so tasked with pulling down branches and arranging them around her on the stony beach. 

It took a moment for her to realized exactly what he was constructing. Diaval pulled down bits of moss from the tree, to pad their little nest before returning to her side. Meticulously placing the gems in just the right spot to where they would capture the most moonlight. 

Maleficent supposed she would never break him of some habits. Traits lingered from his avian form, and she could not expect him to abandon them for the sake of his human form. And so she watched in silence, pulled her legs to her chest, and followed his every move with an expression of polite bemusement. For all his years as her companion, it seemed he still did not understand the way to her heart. 

Or, perhaps, he was simply overcomplicating matters in his own mind.

“Do you know how the fae court works, Diaval?” She asked at length, finally catching his wrist to interrupt his busying. “We are not complex creatures. We pledge our hearts, and we swear to never be parted.”

Maleficent’s long fingers shifted, a turn of the wrist to lace their hands together once more. “Do you pledge your heart to me?” 

Diaval stopped the moment she touched him, eyes widening as he looked down to their clasped hands. His breath hitched in his throat. She’d willingly bind herself to him. So easily. There was no complex mating ritual needed, only words and affirmations of loyalty. He knelt down, looking back to deep sapphire eyes and nodded. 

“I do. I love you, Maleficent.” The raven smiled, any wider and his face would have split in twain. “My heart is yours, I would never leave your side.” 

Diaval hadn’t left her side yet. Years spent beside her, unquestioning and unwavering even through her cruelest moments. It was forming itself into a perfect clarity, piecing together bit by bit. His devotion, his concern, his perseverance…

Aurora held her heart, taught her to love again. And now Diaval challenged her for the privilege. Maleficent’s free hand moved across Diaval’s face, tracing the thorn-point scars at his temple, drifting down beneath his jaw.

“Show me,” Maleficent whispered, a grin turning the corners of her eyes. “Prove yourself, if you’d see my faith restored…”

His breathing was shallow and slow, seeing the smile on her face. Such a smile that went all the way to her gorgeous jewel-like eyes. He hadn’t seen something like that in all his years, but to outright challenge him to capture her heart? It was a challenge he would gladly undertake. The raven moved, pulling her slight frame to him, careful of her wings this time. It would not do to harm those beautiful wings. “I know not how to prove myself to you, my lady.” Except perhaps in one way.

She knew his loyalty. His faith in her. Perhaps a more physical approach would suit her. 

Diaval pressed his thin lips to her neck, sucking softly at the hollow of her throat before he pulled back. Gazing down at her with those fathomless orbs, “Except perhaps by vowing to forever remain by you...to protect Aurora...and please you.” Oh, Diaval would please her. Careful, slender fingers ran down the front of her and he could feel the heat of her body through the robes she wore. 

“You please me as you are.”

But the closer he drew, the more difficult it was to convince herself of that sentiment. As he was, with curious fingers and sly lips, straying farther than Stefan ever dared. Had she longed for this in equal measure? Had some secret part of her ached for this touch? It raised electric across her flesh, like the gentlest magic, and she couldn’t help wondering where Diaval had learnt it.

Was she content with their arrangement as it stood, with the promise of this sensation? This acceptance and devotion, this love? In truth, he’d won her over long ago; this was merely the crescendo of their melody. Her throat was bared to him, exposed to the wanting press of his lips, though the tilt of her head was challenging at best. Her horns impeded the angle, dug into the ground each time she arched toward the kiss, and eventually, she pushed herself up to her elbows. It allowed for less distance between them, more ease to bury her fingers in his hair and guide him back to her mouth. Far less hesitant than before, far more insistent; a kiss that begged more without uttering a single plea. A kiss that promised without speaking a vow.

He was indeed more bold than Stefan had ever been. Diaval kissed her as if his very life depended on it. She was the giver of life, of speech. Maleficent would always have his heart. The touch of her skin against his set his blood on fire, inspired things in him that nothing else had ever before. The raven tightened his arms around her, rolling them over on the sandy bank. Letting her be on top, just the way nature had intended. 

She was strong. She was beautiful. She was…

His divinity. 

Diaval looked up to her, those wings splayed behind her, the horns glinting in the moonlight. His fingers trailed down the front for her, slipping between the long robe and her skin. She was so very soft.

Without raven, without scepter, without all the trappings of self-imposed royalty, she was far less formidable. Not vulnerable, surely; but there would be no fear -- no restriction -- when Diaval’s hands slipped beneath her robes. They parted to his touch, fabrics falling loose of their ties, bared her shivering skin bit by bit. In Maleficent too, there was no hesitation; she laid against him, astride his waist, nails trailing faint welts into his scalp and throat.

To tear him apart, to destroy herself, to knit them both together again in the wake of that desecration; oh, what bliss it would be.

“You cannot possibly understand,” Maleficent murmured into his ear. “What this means, what danger you’re courting.”

And still, she would give him everything. The world and all the magic within it; he need only ask.

“It means that you will have some faith again, my lady.” 

She could hear the grin in his voice, just as much as she could feel the magnificent heat from his fingertips. He wished he could just melt their clothing away, but the only magic he had was her will. “You speak of danger and yet you turn me into all manner of creatures, even a dragon.” Granted, that had been to protect her. “Only you would entice me to court such danger.” 

Diaval kissed her again, trying to shrug out of his tunic, if only feel more of her warm against his own scarred flesh. 

“Only you would rise to the occasion.”

The forests had rarely known this manner of mischief. There were too many creatures lurking in the darkness, too many eyes watching every shift and step around them. And yet, when Maleficent stripped Diaval of his tunic, she could not think of who might see. When her robes fell away from her shoulders and pooled in her lap, she scarcely spared a thought for the lurking fae around them. Her eyes, sharp and shining, bore down on him -- through him -- as she shifted back in his lap. For all the world around them, in that moment, Diaval was all she could see.

He was allowed the privilege of her bare skin, allowed to touch parts of her that had never known another’s hand. Diaval, and no one else, would know these parts of her, just as he knew the darkest places in her soul.

His breath hitched in his throat when she bared herself to him. Nothing else existed in the world right then except for her, and he grinned again. “Speaking of rising…” Crude, but he was never the most eloquent of companions. Diaval could feel his arousal growing, a new sensation in this form. He moved his hips slightly before looking down at where their hips met. He was so new to all of this, but he’d seen human copulate...it was easily imitated. Instinct reached out to him, spoke to him the way the wind spoke to him. 

He pushed the robes from her hips and legs, marveling at the rest of her form. All pale flesh and smooth lines from the swell of her breasts to the gentle curves of her hips. His own skin was scarred, though it scarcely mattered. He didn’t know how he got them. “And only I get you like this. In all your beauty bared. My heart is yours and your heart is mine, and we shall never part.” Speaking the affirmation aloud, if only for his own ears. 

Diaval let his hands explore, running down her sides to slide down the tops of her thighs, and back up to the delta of Venus between her legs. His thumb gently brushed over the jewel nestled there, watching her face intently as he did. Maleficent’s eyes finally left him then, if only because they drifted shut, lips parted in a shuddering gasp. There was something taboo in this, something she couldn’t immediately place, but for the fingers slipping between her thighs. It might be his voice or his hands, his words or his touch. Either way, it was a deep magic, and one that Maleficent had never known. A magic she could never have hoped to weave, and she felt it more keenly than any power she’d ever controlled.

Like fire, like waves, washing through her, sparked from his fingertips to send her reeling. She grasped his forearms, held them steady to her -- or perhaps held herself steady upon him -- as she rocked her hips down against him. His arousal felt strange beneath her; novelty, savage. It was instinct that drove her to shift, to move, to seek out more of his touch and grind firmly down against his lap.

“My heart is yours,” she conceded at last, through soft gasps and a warm flush. “Only yours, Diaval.”

It didn’t take but a moment to shed himself of the trousers he wore, sliding out of them so quickly while his fingers kept her distracted. The heat bloomed in his chest when those words slid from her lips. He would have her. Always and forever. Diaval moved to push himself up a bit, the fingers of his other hand sliding around the back of her neck. Pulling her down for another kiss.

Instinct called out to him, urging him to bury his length within her warmth. The raven ignored it for now, letting their lips dance as he touched her. Teased her, varying the pressure and the speed. Slow for now, so he could feel every sigh and shuddered breath that came from her. “My lady, I do believe the courting is complete.” He grinned, moving his thumb a little faster. 

In truth, the courting had been over before it even began. They’d been each other’s only companions for so long; the years had practically sealed their fates already. They belonged to each other in every sense, all Diaval need do was initiate the dance.

But it was a far more complex thing to have him so beneath her skin. Perched at her side, he could rarely catch her vulnerable. Serving her, he seldom saw her undone. But this -- bare flesh to wanting skin, eager lips and needful hands, sweet and heartbreaking declarations of love and fealty -- this was a different beast entirely. And just as she struggled to breathe, so too did she grasp for any shred of sense and reason in this primal thing between them. Each slide of his fingers, each push of her hips--

Why, after so long? Why now?

“You’ve been too long for this,” Maleficent managed, breathless and shuddering though she was. “Could have had this, years ago.”

“If I had tried this years ago, you would have fed me to mangy dogs.” He chuckled, letting his fingers slide further between her legs. Exploring her folds for a moment before pulling back to marvel at the wetness and warmth there. There. He was supposed to seek out the heat there. Diaval licked his lips, holding her up for a moment and trying to guide his length in. 

Rubbing it against her, enticing. Teasing. 

Both of them, perhaps. “I was not this brave years ago.” 

“Are you now?”

Maleficent reached down to steady his wrist, held him still as she braced herself above him. It felt less strange by the moment, less impossible, less frightening. Became easier to believe that he touched her with love and kissed her with devotion. Became something she ached for, hungered for, grasped for. And she was no timid creature. 

“I love you.”

Her gasp echoed through the forest when she sank down onto him, took him into herself and surrounded him with her warmth. Feathers ruffled, shifted, stretched to surround them both as she curled over him. Breath baited, eyes closed, and lips trembling, she took him in down to the hilt, met his hips with her own and pressed her knees into his sides. Only then did she lift her gaze again, jet to verdant, and released a shuddering breath. Here was bliss, here was salvation.

“For your love, I am this brave.” He could not imagine a love more perfect or true than their own. Years of service were not wasted in the company of this creature. He had seen the darkness in her heart, and the beginning of her salvation. Aurora brought love back to Maleficent’s heart, but it would be Diaval who would keep that fire stoked and burning. 

When her hips finally touched his own, her wrists desperately holding him still. Adjusting, trying to make sense of this...every nerve firing at once over and over again. But Diaval could not stay still. He wanted to move. “My lady, you have my heart now and forever,” The raven repeated himself before rolling his hips up, needing to feel her warmth move over him with some sense of urgency. He did not know how the humans walked around, not in some state of ecstasy in every waking moment of their lives. There was love to be found with another, and sinful pleasure to go along with that. 

Diaval gasped, striking the deepest part of her before he sat up. His arms wrapping tightly around the fairy, mindful of her wings, to hold her to him. “Maleficent…” 

“Diaval…”

The humans did not love like this. They couldn’t possibly. There was too much greed in their souls, too much selfishness and thoughtlessness. They couldn’t possibly understand the depth of this, the true implications of abandoning oneself completely to another being. This was selfless, this was seeking; grasping for the deepest connection and baring oneself entirely.

Maleficent had not anticipated this when she created him, made him man from beast. How could she? She could scarcely rectify it in her own mind now, arms winding around his shoulders and fingers sinking into his hair, holding him against her and within her. How had he gotten under her skin? How had he stolen her heart? How was he enslaving her senses? How had she fallen in love?

She moved over him, a hot slide and maddening friction, gasping against his lips as she dove in to capture them again. It was simple enough to meet him thrust for thrust, so easy to fall into a rhythm against him and shiver with each crash of their hips. Harder though was breath and thought, both of which were slowly being abandoned in the wake of sensation.

The raven moved his hands to her hips, to steady her and to better move with her. He wanted nothing more than to just stay in this moment, with her slick heat around him and her lips against his. Maleficent was nothing, if not divine. Diaval rolled his hips with hers, feeling with utter surety that he would belong to her forever. He could feel the knot in his stomach tightening with every passing moment. 

Paradise in her embrace. 

“My lady…” He would pay homage at the temple of her glorious form for the rest of his life. No matter how long or short his existence would be. One hand slipped between them, his thumb finding the jewel nestled between her legs again. “My lady, you are beautiful.”

“And you--”

The words died on her lips, replaced instead with a soft cry that echoed through the vastness of their little lakeside clearing. The sensations were more intense now, the touch begging a temporary stillness in her as she battled through a sudden lightness in her head. She was little more than nerves in that moment, firing too fast and too free, coiling an unfamiliar tightness in her stomach and a beautiful burn between her legs.

She’d seized Diaval’s hair, pulled a bit too hard, and as soon as she realized herself, she smoothed her fingertips over his scalp again. Unbidden, in the midst of so much lust and confusion, Maleficent smiled.

“You must touch me like this, Diaval,” she laughed quietly. “Every day, for the rest of our days. Swear it to me.” 

“All day, every day, Mistress. You will live in ecstasy.” 

He groaned, the tightness in his own stomach threatening to snap. Diaval thrust up into her a little harder, not even noticing the pain in his scalp from her grip. He could not take this for much longer. He felt like his very sanity was ready to flee from him, simply feeling her ride him like this. The raven could feel every part of her. Inside and out. It was--

His cry was suddenly sharper when he felt it break over him. Diaval only knew what happened after it was a little too late. 

He spilled inside of her, holding her so close to him. Inhaling the scent of her skin as he panted against her chest. “I swear it to you.” 

It may have been his breath against her skin, or the keening groans that passed over her chest. It may have been the soft words of love, the salacious promises, the quiet declarations. It may have been his release within her, the soft throbbing that begged she respond in kind. But more likely, it was a convergence -- a merging in its own right -- that ended her. The sensation overtook her, a shattering, a breaking, and she shook in the wake of each soft cry that left her. The sounds were almost wounded, too close to agony but so clearly bliss, and they came with a tight pulsing around Diaval’s cock.

Face flush, breathless, and still trembling, Maleficent could nevertheless do little more than laugh. Laugh, full and sweet and beautiful, as she pressed lingering kisses across Diaval’s face. When she met his lips again, it was with a sigh and a shiver, before she drew back to find his gaze again. 

“Pretty bird,” she chuckled, passing her hands once more through his hair. “Ruthless thief.”

“I’ll take pretty bird over mangy dog any day.” He grinned, running his hands up the flawless skin of her back. Her wings reunited with her frame, it was one of the most glorious days in his mistress’ life. At least until today. Today was glorious for both of them. Diaval captured her lips with his, before pulling back for air. She was truly a goddess, and he had stolen her heart. He would keep it locked up with his, because the only thing that truly mattered to him anymore was her. Her and their new queen, Aurora, of course. 

But no one would know Maleficent in the ways that Diaval would. “Do you plan on lettin’ me steal other things, Mistress?" 

“What manner of things would you steal? Greedy thing, you’ve taken quite a bit already.”

Maleficent’s hands -- shaking though they were -- never faltered in their careful exploration. Desperation sated, there was time now to kiss and touch gently, to blaze unfamiliar trails across pale flesh and raised scar, to press bruises into his throat with her teeth, and leave her mark upon his body that none might mistake them. They belonged to one another now. Belonged.

The red welts looked wondrous against Diaval’s skin.

“What more do you want? Say the word, Diaval. It will be yours.”

He couldn’t help the little smiles and gasps that crossed his lovely features as she marked him. Diaval didn’t know where his scars had come from, but he wished those marks from her teeth and lips to be permanent. He looked up into those blazing verdant eyes and whispered to her in the luminescent night, “I want to change. On my own. Whenever I want.” He did not know if she could give him that power, but it did not matter. Diaval just did not want to have to depend on her words to change him should he ever need to protect her again.

The raven doubted it would happen, not with Aurora on the throne of the united kingdoms, but he did not want to take a chance with his love. His heart and soul. 

“You are the strongest of the fairies, my lady, but even you were almost overcome by human ambition. Give me the power to change my form on my own, so that I may forever protect you and be your second set of wings.” He kissed her again, smiling again as he leaned back against the sand. His black depths never left hers, such love in his eyes. No one and nothing would rend these two asunder. 

Maleficent knew better. She knew better than to trust so readily and deeply. She knew better than to allow herself to be manipulated. A foolish girl no longer, and still a fool for love nonetheless. Diaval’s plea spoke to a deeper part of her, begged so little when he’d given her so much. To change his form, to protect her as if she were some helpless child. No; to fight beside her, to ensure they would never come to harm again.

He wanted only a taste of magic. She would give him the world.

“More than that,” she murmured, taking his face with both her hands. “Much more.”

The magic was alight in her palms, a harlequin fire warm and tingling against Diaval’s face. He took it in with each breath, dancing along the edges of his mouth and the corners of his eyes, licking painlessly at his flesh. Maleficent’s eyes shone as she pressed their foreheads together, caught in his gaze, holding him close and still as she spoke the spell.

“I share my magic with you now, Diaval. My power is our power; you will do as I can do, for all our days together. For as long as you love me, my magic is yours to borrow. From now until the end of time, no power on Earth can change it.”

The pact sealed, the fire dissipated between their skin, and Maleficent pressed her lips to his once more with all the foolish surety she’d felt in her youth.

“Are you--” There was little point in asking if she was sure. Maleficent did nothing unless she was absolutely sure of herself. Her curse against Stefan...she’d been sure her heart, though her heart had been filled with darkness. She was wiser now, she would say the right words. His love would not put an innocent life in jeopardy again simply to spite someone. Diaval held his hand up, watching the yellow magic swirl about his fingers as they broke the kiss. 

He chuckled, before a flittering fairy flew between them, their little wings tickling the end of his nose. 

The raven sneezed, and his form changed so quickly. 

Controlling this magic would take some time, he thought, looking down at Maleficent. The fairy splayed over his scaled belly. He liked this form. It was powerful and he still had his wings, but dragon fire could be a little dangerous around the moors. “Perhaps you could help with this? I’m afraid I don’t have your knack for this yet.” 

An unexpected change, but not an entirely unwelcome one. A dragon’s stomach was a warm place to rest one’s head. Maleficent stretched out across his scales, running her hand with quiet marvel across a ridge of black feathers nearby. A dragon, a horse, a wolf; through all, he maintained some part of his avian form.

She’d envied them, once. A bitter reminder of what she’d lost, now returned but by the grace of her daughter.

Maleficent stretched her wings out to rest over him, and still their span barely covered his monstrous torso. But there was no fear in her, little more than quiet amusement as she traced his scales with careful fingertips.

“You’ll come into it,” she assured him with a grin. “I would hardly assume such a fearsome creature needs my assistance.”

He could hear the tittering around them, the fey close enough to listen to their little interlude thought nothing of laughing quietly at him through their hiding places. A dragon looked quite out of place on the moors, far too large to fit in comfortably here. Though the sand was soft beneath him, and the Maleficent’s form was warm against his scaled belly. Diaval would figure this out soon enough. If he could keep Aurora from starving to death, he could figure out this magic thing. 

Most fairies were not the brightest of creatures and the raven knew he had a bit more sense than them. 

“You are having far too much amusement at my expense, Mistress.” The grin of hers was infectious and it was mirrored in his baritone voice. 

“Amusement?” Maleficent asked, the very picture of innocence. “I wouldn’t dream of it.”

A wave of her hand brought Diaval’s human form once more, soft green mist in the aftermath, like steam upon his bare skin. In all, she preferred this form. This form had welcoming arms and legs between which she could rest. This form had hands that could touch, and lips she could devour for days. This form was her Diaval, no matter what he’d been before.

“We shall have to work on that,” she decided, carefully resting her head against his shoulder. “Later. You’ve exhausted me.”

“Dream sweetly, my lady.” 

They slept for several hours until dawn finally broke over the Moors and the raven was awake with the first light. He didn’t move, nor make a sound. Maleficent was beautiful while she slept. So deeply lost in her happy dreams. There was no fear or anger left in her to sour them. Diaval lifted a hand, concentrating hard enough to see her yellow magic weave through his fingers. He couldn’t help the slight chuckle when a few colorful pebbles lifted from their resting place on the beach and floated shakily in, spinning in gentle circles. 

Perhaps it was not so hard. Though he would have to get the sneezing under control.

They would get it under control, eventually. Together. But the wee hours of the morning were no time for lessons and practice. Maleficent had spent so long in the realm of night, she was no longer accustomed to rising with the sun. She might not have woken, if not for the rumble of a chuckle in Diaval’s chest. Even then, awareness was slow to come; she was confused by the warmth beneath her body, puzzled by the realization of her own nudity. Though when her reason crept in, it begged a small smile as she lifted her head.

“Tell them what to do, Diaval,” Maleficent murmured, eyes still softly shut. “In your mind, tell them what you wish of them, and they will obey.”  
The more complex magic -- curses, charms, transfigurations -- still required a verbal component, simply to keep one’s desires and intentions clear. At length, she lifted her head, beckoning one of the stones to her with a wave of her hand. She closed it in her palm, encased it within her fingers, and by the time she opened her hand again, it had taken the shape of a tiny feathered dragon.

The raven marveled at the miniature version of his dragon form in her hand, before he brought his own shiny stone closer towards him. Floating just above her column-like neck, and grinned when the grasses pulled themselves from the ground, weaving a necklace in which to encase the pretty stone. It shone in the dim sunlight, and he sat up a little, moving his fingers to let it rest gently against her neck while he tied it in the back. 

“This is not as hard as I thought, Mistress.” 

“You see?” Maleficent offered an indulgent smile. “It will grow easier, in time.”

The stone rested warm against her breastbone, heavy only in the weight that it carried. This still seemed such a frightfully fragile thing, and while Maleficent’s better sense told her to tread carefully, she still found herself melting to it without reserve. A thawed heart now blossomed, beat double each time her name graced Diaval’s lips, and finally she knew what it meant to love again.

Maleficent drew a bracing breath, and pushed herself to sit again, naked between Diaval’s legs. Her fingertips drew idle patterns on his scarred knees, though she gazed out over the water -- to the distant throne -- eyes lost and afar in thought.

“I wonder what our Beastie will make of this.”

“I believe she will be content with the thought that her fairy godmother too has found love.” Aurora’s heart was big enough to love even those who had strayed far into hell. “Her fairy godmother and her pretty bird are in love. She’ll fawn over you even more now, Mistress.” Diaval laughed, squirming his way under her wing to nip at her neck. His own nudity did not bother him, and why should it? He was not human. He had nothing to be ashamed of. “You see?” He mocked gently, kissing his way along her neck. “It will grow easier in time.” 

Maleficent’s wing ensconced Diaval, a cozy wrap that by now felt almost habitual. Instinctive, much like the tilt of her head, the exposure of her neck to his wandering lips. They warmed her in ways she still couldn’t name; soft kisses and searching teeth that begged the most radiant smile of her.

It would grow easier in time. In fact, it was hardly challenging now.

“You are completely unbearable,” Maleficent chided, and inclined her head to to catch his lips for one brief pass. “What am I meant to do with you now? Given you my magic, so that you can spend the daylight hours trying to eat me? Why, it’s insulting.”

His grin was almost malicious when her lips caught his. “Yes, I will eat you up like a delicious pastry, Mistress. Perhaps you should have thought better giving me all your magic.” Diaval’s laugh was from the belly as he wrapped his arms around her, flipping them over on the pebbled shoreline. His naked form pressed against hers again, as his lips found that wonderful spot on the side of her neck. The raven’s body exuded a warmth Maleficent would not find elsewhere. 

“You think me unbearable, but yet you do not drive me from your side.”

“Then where would I be?” Maleficent laughed. “A poor, lonesome fairy with half her magic gone?”

Perhaps Diaval had yet to consider the full implications of his newfound power. He did not simply have her magic, he shared it with her by half. They would draw their power from each other, combine it to find more still. She had -- for all intents and purposes -- given away a good deal of herself to Diaval, and merely trusted that she would never live to regret it.

And yes, it still seemed a bit of a fool’s errand. But she was nothing if not a fool for love.

Maleficent cradled Diaval’s head in her hands, offering a soft sigh when he lingered at her neck. She sought out his earlobe with her teeth, tugging gently while she whispered soft words of adoration:

“I need you, Diaval. I love you. Stay with me always.”

“You will always have me, Mistress.” He wanted nothing more than to simply stay wrapped in her embrace like this for all time. He did not care if others saw them. He would not care even if their Beastie saw them. Diaval gave a sigh, feeling his arousal just barely starting to make itself known again. He paid it no mind as he pulled his head from her hands, taking her slim digits in his scarred grasp and spoke softly. “Never shall we part so long as we love.” 

“So long as we love.”

The pact had been made already. Even so, Maleficent marveled at the magic that danced between their fingertips. It drifted, swirled gold and green until she laced their hands together again. There was beauty between them that she couldn’t put a name to, perfection that intensified with their joining. 

Motes of sunlight ghosted through the clearing, haloed Diaval in the softness of morning. He’d always been a creature of beauty, a dweller of light despite his darkness. Maleficent stroked his scars -- traced his temples, his throat, his collar, his chest -- and took in his radiance with bated breath. Saw him in his entirety, and thought for certain she would be blinded by his goodness.

How had fortune smiled upon her so? Was this her reward for the theft of her wings? Enduring those years of emptiness, only to find completeness in every sense at the end.

“Do you know what you are?” She asked, brushing his lips with her thumb. “Have you any idea?”

Aurora was her salvation. But Diaval? He was her salve, her remedy; he was the liniment that would make her whole again.

“A bandage to heal your wounds?” His grin was infectious as he moved over her, nuzzling into the crook of her neck. A soft nip at her tender skin brought another wonderful gasp from her. He would stay like this for an eternity simply to keep bringing those sounds from her beautiful lips. “I will heal your wounds if you keep farmers with nets and billyclubs away...and promise to never turn me into a dog.” It was something strange to feel her in him, feel the warmth of her extraordinary magic coursing through him. He would no longer need her words to turn him back to his beautiful self. 

He wouldn’t need her, but he could never see himself leaving her side. Black eyes caught her magnificent green and he ran his fingers down her smooth, pale cheek. “I will love you to the end of my days and into death itself.”


	2. Chapter 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Now that Aurora has decreed that her fairy godmother will be the Moors' ambassador to the human kingdom, she must find a way to foster a lasting and amenable peace with the new boy king who is not overly fond of his cousin or the fey folk. 
> 
> Maleficent is not fond of her new role either, but with Diaval ever by her side, we're sure she can accomplish anything.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> We realized that the first chapter could not be the end of this fic, so we've been writing bits and pieces over the last year! Here is the long awaited Chapter 2 to Unseelie! No worries, folks, there will be more glorious smut to come!'
> 
> Happy Independence Day!

The palace had always been a cold and empty place.  There was no magic to be felt there; no honeyed thrum of energy in the walls, no sweet scent of earth and ether.  Just a frigid expanse of stone, broken only intermittently by whimsical tapestries and austere portraiture.  Lifeless, the humans inhabiting its halls little more than shells devoid true life.  How could they know love in a place like this?  How could they find happiness? 

 

It was no small wonder, that they should yearn for the power of the Moors.

 

Even with Aurora’s insistence and reassurance, Maleficent felt ridiculous in this manner of finery.  Too much cloth, trapping and confining and restricting, heavy upon her lithe limbs and cumbersome when coupled with the weight of her wings.  The fae prepared her well, gilded her horns and fashioned her in complex patterns of shimmering black and glittering gold.  How she was expected to fly like this, she couldn’t begin to imagine.  But Aurora’s insistence brought her around, in exasperated eventuality.

 

With her head held so high, she did strike a rather imposing figure.

 

She would need all the help she could get.  Fae emissary to the humans; it was not a position she had any desire to fulfill, but there was little question of her suitability.  She knew more of their custom and tradition than even Aurora, raised by three fairies as she’d been.  And by the girl’s own estimation, there were few other fae who could stand toe-to-toe with a human war council as capably as Maleficent.  Absent any real and solid argument, Maleficent (begrudgingly) acquiesced.

 

Which is how she found herself here, exhausted after  _ hours  _ of firm insistence that Diaval was  _ not _ her husband (and why were these people so obsessed with that fanatical bond?), that she was not planning a coup against the new king, that there was no blood feud between their kingdom and the Moors, and that  _ really _ she was only here for negotiations.

 

“These people,” Maleficent snapped, and began to tear at her gown the moment they were safe in their private quarters.  “Are mad.  How does she expect me to reason with them?” 

 

Diaval let out a wide yawn and fell onto the magnificent comfort of their curtained bed.  Dealing with these humans was exhausting, but no more exhausting for him than dealing with the denizens of the Moors.  He was not a native of those lands, having flown over the human lands since he’d been hatched.  All day repeating himself over and over again that, yes...they were joined and yes, Maleficent was his husband.  It was tiresome, but he did not understand why it was so aggravating for his beautiful mistress.

 

“You are the great Maleficent, my love.  Why do you let them bother you so?” He pushed himself up to his elbows, looking over to her in concern.  Some human traditions were irksome, but Aurora had asked her fairy godmother to look after the affairs of the Moors in the human court. “Command them.  You are still feared and loved by all who meet you.  You will command their attention in a day or two.”  

 

“Or they’ll have my horns as decor,” she sneered.  “Disgusting creatures.”

 

During their introduction to the castle, Maleficent had  _ not _ been fond of the trophy room.  The momento mori she wore herself were found things, shells of a being that lived its course.  Those animals -- the terrified heads and racks that covered the walls and stood in mockery of an imposing stance -- had  _ not _ passed naturally.  She intended to give that portion of the castle a rather wide berth in the future.

 

“They may fear me, Diaval.  But that is a very far cry from respecting me, and I hardly think I will ever find  _ love _ among these people.  I doubt they even know how to love.  They’re not like you and I, they’re…  selfish.  Self-absorbed.  They care for their own gain and little else.  Aurora is different, she was raised among the fairies, she never--”

 

She’d never known the cruelty of humans.  She was not intimately familiar, as Maleficent was.  And, gods be willing, she never would be; that was the only reason Maleficent agreed to this in the first place.

 

“We will do what we can,” Maleficent said, and drew a steadying breath.  “...I just need to find a way.  This new king is little older than a child, and he carries Stefan’s prejudice.  It will not be an easy task.”

 

She finally managed to wrestle her way through the ties and bindings of the gown.  It was a fine thing, all black brocade and golden thread, but she was grateful to have it around her ankles.  Diaval raised one solid black eyebrow from his place on the bed before pushing himself up to wrap strong arms around her waist.  She was always so warm under his touch.  “All the folk here are wary of us, they grew up on tales of the great treasures and powerful beasts that live in the Moors.  They are wary, but they are not incapable of love, Mistress.  Stefan loved you for a time.  Aurora loves you deeply.  The children at the court look up to you in amazement.”  

 

The raven had spent so many years watching the court for the most powerful of the fey.  Aurora asked her fairy godmother to undertake this task as emissary because she trusted her to be wise and fair.  Maleficent had been hurt deeply by a human, but also found her salvation in one. “They fear that which they do not know.  Let them know you.  You are capable of great things, including love and compassion.”  

 

“Let them know me,” she repeated, the hint of laughter on her tongue.  “Do you really think they can?”

 

Maleficent had her doubts.  Diaval knew her.  He knew her intimately, in ways that she scarcely knew herself.  She’d lived in hate for so long, she lost touch with everything else, even herself.  She could not see the love right in front of her, and for that she would always feel supremely foolish.

 

But she could not appeal to these people in the same way that she appealed to Diaval.  Dazzling them with her magic was no sure thing; it might just as soon frighten them, and too many likely remembered her embarrassing display at their princess’ christening.  Lost in thought, she sighed and reached up to stroke one slender finger down Diaval’s nose.

 

“They seemed quite taken with you, though.  What did you tell them?  Grand tales of the Moors?  Of their princess, a resplendent queen in a magical land?”

 

“I told them tales of a silly bird who fell utterly in love with the most powerful fairy in the Moors, but her heart was smitten by a lovely little lady with blonde curls.” He grinned to her, nipping at her finger.  “I haven’t quite gotten to the climax of the tale yet, my lady.”  The young ones at court were quite taken with the dark-haired man and he liked the attention, but he was careful to keep them interested.  Diaval had spent many years around the humans, spying on Stefan for Maleficent and watching them when he’d been strictly avian.  

 

He knew their ways a little better and with that playful charm of his, navigating the sea of nobles and courtiers was a small matter.  “Let them know you.”  Diaval used that gifted magic to send a wave of warmth over her smooth flesh, picking her up then and bringing them both to sit in one of the comfortable chairs by the fire.  

 

With this beautiful fey across his lap, he was complete--but there were her own troubles to soothe yet.  “My lady, the way you let yourself be open to Aurora’s charms, be open to the humans here.  I will ensure no harm befalls your heart.”  

 

_ Open _ was not a trait one could easily ascribe to Maleficent.  Careful, calculating, strategic, and sometimes brutal.  But compassion?  Understanding?  Patience?  Those were borne of maternal instinct, reserved solely for Aurora’s unending curiosity and joy.  These humans, plainly, were not Aurora, and it would take a good deal of careful figuring before she’d worked out the best ways to work  _ with _ them rather than against them.  That, she had yet to realize, was precisely why Aurora bade Diaval accompany her.

 

Maleficent’s wings folded tightly against her back, and she shifted to rest her cheek against Diaval’s shoulder.  His own patience with her was no small wonder.  Truly, Maleficent couldn’t fathom how he consistently talked her back from her cliffs.  Without him, she would have wandered that ballroom in a state of complete panic, rather than the high-held composure she’d managed throughout the frivolities of the evening.

 

“The little king will not warm to us quickly.  And if we’re to be emissaries, we must have friends in this palace.  I haven’t the faintest idea where to start.”

 

It had been a long time since Maleficent had to make  _ friends. _

 

Diaval was careful when he turned his head to kiss her cheek.  Those horns of hers were something to fear, particularly when a quick turn of the head could render him blind.  “Lucky for my mistress, I have been a diligent herald.” It was much easier for him to navigate these courts of human royals and courtiers, his natural playful demeanor and air of mystery made him quite popular with the younger women of the court and a few of the young fops as well.  “The stories I tell of your exploits keep even the most doubting of this court on the edge of their seats.  How you saved the lost princess from a mad king, happily giving anything it would have taken to awaken our little beastie from the enchanted sleep.” 

 

He shifted under her, his fingers gently running through her long chocolate locks.  Straight as an arrow and as fine as silk, he’d never felt such hair before. “I can be quite a gifted storyteller when I need to be.  These people long to speak with you; you need only give them the chance.”  

 

“How does one so embellish her own story?”

 

Maleficent had played her own role rather poorly, as far as she was concerned.  No longer a villain, but neither was she a hero.  This story had no ending happier than Aurora’s crowning, and still it had wound itself into a narrative of love, of forgiveness, and gone on to create a marvel all its own.

 

How different could this story have been, after all?  How far lost would she be, had she not stopped one day to punish a man and rescue a crow?

 

“I’ve done only what needed to be done, to protect the Moors and to protect Aurora.  There is nothing extraordinary or noble in that.

 

“But Diaval, they lavish such attention on you.  Surely you tell them more than our little lives in the Moors.”  Maleficent grinned, however faintly, and straightened herself to come eye-level her companion.  “These stories are fabrication, surely.  You spin lovely pictures, but they can’t be the truth.”

 

“Mistress, my love, I would tell them nothing but the truth.  There is no lovelier yarn I can spin than that of real life.  These humans are fascinated, yet intimidated by you.  You are the strongest of all the fairies and they do not know how to speak to such a radiant creature.”  Therein was the problem, his beautiful Maleficent did not know how to speak to the humans either.  Each human was capable great acts both miraculous and terrible in their own way, few had seen this more than Diaval.  

 

His hands came to rest on her hips, his thumbs softly stroking the tender skin there. “Talk to them, Maleficent.  Just the way you spoke with Aurora when she was a child, when you started to truly adore her.  Hope for the best with these people, I will watch for those who truly do not have this kingdom’s best intentions at heart.”  

 

“And I will need that, Diaval.  More than you can possibly know.”

 

A fae diplomat could not appear shaken, could not appear weak or cowed or hesitant in the face of so many hawkish eyes.  They would see her fail, they would catch and pull at every falter, and now faced with that fact, she came to realize just how keenly she needed her dear crow.  He would be her eyes and ears when her own were distracted and far, just as he had always been.

 

Tomorrow, though.  Morning could bring the worry again, daylight could bring the planning and stratagem and all the many trappings of diplomacy.  Tonight, she would draw strength from Diaval in whatever ways she could manage, both chaste and lascivious, and forget -- for just a little while -- that she’d been tasked with the impossible once more.

 

~~~

 

The following few days were filled with the typical courtly acclimation, if it could be called “typical.”  Maleficent’s introduction to the humans’ high court was hardly a regular one, and many of the elder-most council members regarded her as little more than a passing dignitary.  Indeed, there seemed to be quite a deal of  _ confusion _ and  _ discussion _ regarding Maleficent’s appointment to the newly-founded position of Moorish Liaison, and the better part of three days’ argument was spent on whether or not this meant “the fae” would be a permanent fixture in the castle.

 

Diaval had been -- blissfully -- far better-received, though none of the councils bothered to consult Maleficent regarding her feelings on the matter.

 

Regardless, Maleficent was assigned a retainer.  She was unused having servants underfoot, and she was unsure of what to do with the girl at first.  After some deliberation it was decided she could be put to use assisting with the complex gowns and garments to which Maleficent was  _ also _ unaccustomed.

 

By human standards, she was an unfortunate-looking girl.  Her gaunt face was too long and angular, much like the rest of her gangling body, and it was a wonder that her limbs did not tangle up with themselves like ribbons in the wind.  Thin lips barely hid her large teeth, nearly as yellow as her thin cornsilk hair, and her dark eyes seemed constantly ready to pop clear out of their sockets.  She gave her name only as Winni, and said little else in her airy wisp of a voice.

 

It was fitting that she should be assigned to Maleficent, by the council’s figuring.  There were human tales of  _ changelings _ \-- fae children, mischievous and ugly little devils, switched with a kidnapped human babe shortly after birth -- and Winni’s unusual appearance had assumed her to be one.  While these fables were utter horseshit, and Maleficent knew them to be so, it seemed to endear the girl to her nevertheless.  No doubt, Winni had suffered at the hands of these humans in the palace, had been castigated and bullied all her life by their assumptions and prejudice.  And still she was kind, gentle in both touch and demeanor, and Maleficent found that to be unparalleled in beauty.

 

“Scheduling conflicts” kept Maleficent from a formal introduction with the newly-crowned king.  These conflicts, from what Diaval had been able to discern, consisted primarily of last-minute whims for a fox hunt, and Maleficent’s patience -- already thin as spring ice -- could not abide the snubbed introductions.  

 

Perhaps that was why, when their meeting finally occurred, Maleficent met the occasion with tepidly-simmering rage.  She was led into the palace’s great hall -- which held no happy memories for her -- and each meeting of staff to paving heralded a cavernous echo through the chamber she knew regrettably well.  The palace smiths had scarcely finished replacing the window she’d shattered during her last battle with Stephan..

 

And so there were reminders to each party, what transgressions could beget from either side.  The little king sat in his overlarge throne -- dubbed King Porphan, some teenaged, distant nephew of the late Stefan -- head held far too high in false bravado.  Maleficent stopped just short of the stair to the thrones, and she did not bow.

 

“You are late.”  The King was the first to speak, and Diaval -- perched as raven atop Maleficent’s staff -- would recognize all too well the incredulous rise in her brow.

 

“I repay the respects given, Your Majesty.”  Maleficent’s tone was just on the edge of a sneer.

 

Diaval had done well to keep an eye on the comings and goings, as well as making sure Maleficent’s retainer was cared for when not in the service of her lady.  His black eyes narrowed on the young king and he squawked loudly enough it echoed throughout the great hall.  Another squawk and he jumped from her staff, using the gifted magic to turn himself back to his human form.  Many here had seen the trick before, many more had not.  

 

He landed beside his lover, clad in his black finery with a magnificent smile.  He gave a gracious nod and a deep bow to the new king. 

 

“King Porphan, long may you reign.” There were few in the courts that could ignore Diaval’s charisma.  Ever the corvid charmer. “Do accept our apologies for being late, but the Lady Maleficent is ever so patient when she is giving a magic lesson to someone like me.  I am afraid I can never match her sheer brilliance, or be the asset that she is to this court.”  Diaval’s smile would slay any dragon and it brought titters from several ladies of the court.  

 

The deception was sufficient, albeit weak; excuses that would not pass with Maleficent, but they would serve for a belligerent child.  Porphan smirked, a filthy slide of lips that made Maleficent’s grip tighten on her staff.  A less composed fae might have cracked that staff across his face; for a moment, Maleficent cursed her inhibitions.

 

“Magic?”  Porphan uncrossed his legs, and leaned forward in his throne.  “Is that what you call magic, Crow?  My court fools have tricks like that too.”

 

“And do your court fools have names, Majesty?  Or are they simply ‘Jester?’”

 

A murmur rippled through the court following Maleficent’s words, and the little king’s eyes might have been daggers when they snapped to the fairy’s gaze.  “What?”

 

“Court fool.  Crow.  Fairy.  Is that all we are to you, King Porphan?  Did you even learn my name, Majesty?  Or was that beneath your notice as well?”

 

The silence might have deafened, if not for a sharply indignant sniff from the throne.

 

“I am your dignitary from the Moors, and I stand before you at the behest of Queen Aurora.  My companion is named Diaval.  And if you cannot even summon my name from your self-involved reverie, then your reign is already doomed.”

 

It seemed Maleficent was eternally cursed to challenge kings upon this stair.

 

The snarl on the boy king’s lips grew slowly, his fury like the low, simmering boil of a reduction.  

 

Though as quickly as the snarl appeared, it changed quite suddenly to laughter.  Indignant, bent over giggles from the young king before he jumped to his feet.  “Clear the hall!  Now!”  The court and courtiers were quick to scatter from the throne room, though Maleficent and Diaval did not move.  

 

The crow’s lady would not be ordered to leave, and her lover would only follow her.  

 

The footsteps of the court echoed greatly through the large chamber before finally it ceased, leaving only his guards at their posts.  King Porphan would never be so unprotected as his predecessor.  He was silent for a moment, the smile returned to his face as he narrowed his gaze at the strongest of the fairies. “Aurora is my cousin, and I indulged her bothersome request to install you and your bird as the Moors’ ambassador  _ only _ because she is my cousin.  I am not my uncle Stefan, Lady.  I have no secret love for you, nor do I trust any of your kin.”

 

Diaval spoke up then, a curious statement on his lips and a wicked gleam in his eye. “Ah, but you did request an audience with a dignitary from the Moors, my dear king.  You say you are not your uncle Stefan and that alone gives me hope for you.” 

 

“My uncle was stupid and short-sighted, he thought he could destroy you,” He turned his gaze to Maleficent, “with a trap made of iron.  He was stupid, as was the king before him, thinking they could simply seize whatever power grows in the Moors and destroy it.  I do not care what your names are, I care only that there is peace between our kingdoms.  There is great power in the Moors, but my cousin...simple as she is, will keep it reined in.  War will only bring destruction to my throne and my kingdom.”  Porphan was not so much a child as they’d presumed. “But speak such insolence to me in front of  _ my _ court again and I will see you punished for it.”  

 

Diaval turned to his lover, a smile on his face and a raised eyebrow.  How Maleficent would react to such a king, he truly did not know.  The king breathed a desire for peace and promised them punishment in the same breath.  

 

Maleficent had crafted such a stunning facade over the years, it was impossible to read anything more complex than a vague annoyance on her face.  Her expression betrayed boredom, perhaps a hint of ire, made clear only by the slight rise of one brow.  But Diaval, sharing her magic as he did, could also feel her rage, simmering down in the pit of his stomach until bile rose in his throat.  

 

His mistress never did bear insults well.

 

“As I say,  _ King _ , I repay the respects given.”

 

Porphan growled his disgust and waved a dismissive hand toward them.  “You bore me.  Go.  And if you find your way back to the Moors in the process, no one here will mourn you.”

 

“With pleasure,  _ King. _  Diaval.”

 

With a flourish of her cloak, Maleficent turned, scarcely waiting for Diaval’s accompaniment before she stormed out of the great hall.  The crack of her staff echoed with every step, and Diaval felt quite distinctly  _ ill. _

 

~~~

 

“Again, you fail to focus.”

 

As it turned out, the palace courtyard was  _ not _ an ideal place to master the magical arts.  Diaval no doubt would have preferred that his adoring courtiers remain ignorant of his arcane ineptitude.  Yet there they sat beneath the shaded curtain of a nearby willow, tittering behind their silk fans, seeming to melt beneath their layers of wool, chiffon and brocade.  All elaborate finery and facade that Maleficent couldn’t begin to understand.

 

She had kept her distance from the court in the fortnight since their meeting with King Porphan.  Certainly, it had not been her intention to sow any seeds of discontent, but once more it seemed she was paying for the brashness of her actions.  Wounded pride was her eternal downfall, and once again it delivered her into the hands of an angry sovereign.  One who was still struggling to earn the trust of his countrymen after his uncle’s mad reign, and one whose situation had not been helped by Maleficent’s outburst in the throne room.

 

Word travelled too fast, and many of these humans -- bafflingly -- seemed to trust the fae diplomats over their own king.

 

“I’m beginning to understand why Aurora sent us here,” Maleficent said, as Diaval failed for the fifth time to hold his dragon form.  “We left a mess in our wake.”

 

He looked up to his love with a bewildered look, wondering how she’d come to such a conclusion in the middle of a magic lesson.  Diaval had been trying for weeks now and it seemed the only form he could hold with any consistency was a damn wolf.  He would be damned if he would ever voluntarily be a mangy, feathered dog again.  And it seemed that the dragon form just came on him whenever he sneezed.  

 

It made for a very uncomfortable thing in the tight corridors of the castle, though the courtiers were always amused by him.  He was glad someone was getting some enjoyment out of his constant failures.  

 

Diaval pushed himself up to his feet, dusting off his sleeves. “We left a mess?  I seem to recall you were the one that broke a window, not me.” He grinned at her, obviously jesting.  

 

“I don’t recall asking for your opinion on the matter.”

 

Despite her words, the ghost of a grin lingered on Maleficent’s lips.  She waved a hand toward Diaval, banishing away the feathery wings that had lingered from the transformation.  It was no small feat he could concentrate at all, given all the tittering hens behind their summer fans.

 

Winni was perched on a nearby wall, unruly hair tucked haphazard into a wide-brimmed sunhat.  It suited her poorly; Maleficent had notions of a horse peeking its head through a bale of hay, all dark round eyes and oversized teeth.

 

“She’s right,” Winni’s wispy voice broke in.  “Under King Stefan, everything was  _ regiment  _ and  _ order _ .  I don’t believe Porphan knows quite how to handle it…”

 

Maleficent tilted her head toward Winni, bemused in her intrigue.  “No?”

 

A flush came to Winni’s face, seemingly unaccustomed to acknowledgement, and her gaze quickly downturned.  “No, mi’lady.  Rather, his advisors advise, and his council counsels.  But the King seems rather unsure of how to endear himself to those who… well, whose trust has wavered.”

 

“Imagine that,” Maleficent cast Diaval another smirk.  “The little king has trouble making friends.”

 

“I know why you two don’t like each other now, you’ve got too much in common.” Diaval grinned over to his lover’s handmaiden, the young girl was perceptive.  Winni looked up to him with some amusement before she caught herself and those eyes went downward again. “He is still young, Mistress, and you are not entirely accustomed to the niceties of court.  Perhaps we should invite the young king for a private supper in our wing.  I can imagine it would be much easier for you both to speak your minds without having the courtiers around to listen.”

 

Aurora had sent them here to foster peace, be emissaries for the Moors in the human kingdom.  It was important that Maleficent and the king be able to actually speak to each other, be blunt and get their points across.  And Diaval knew the girl perched on the wall would play a bigger part in this than just being a handmaiden.  

 

“Winni, weren’t you just telling me the other morning about how you miss the Duke Elling’s estate where you were fostered in the South?  Rumor has it, our young King was fostered there as well.”  The crow grinned, his scheming would undoubtedly earn him an earful when they were behind locked doors.  

 

Maleficent’s brow arched, casting a glance between Diaval and Winni.  How Diaval had such a way with humans, Maleficent would never understand.  There was a time when she’d been able to connect with them in some small way, and while that capability was still on the mend, she’d never seen a fae so perfectly able to charm them as Diaval.  If he weren’t already by her side, she might even be wary of him.

 

Winni lowered her head again under Maleficent’s stare, and her shrug spoke to what her lips would not say.  Maleficent pursed her lips, and slipped down from the low branch upon which she’d been perched.

 

“Now that was a detail you neglected to mention,” Maleficent mused, tucking her wings tight behind her back as her arms crossed.

 

“It’s hardly worth mentioning, Mistress.”  Winni toyed with the hem of her dress, not daring meet the fae’s eyes.  “We were both wards.  Friends, but… He found a job for me in the palace when all the villagers turned me away.”

 

Maleficent looked to Diaval, and he could practically hear the schemes brewing between her horns.

 

“Well, perhaps our dear Winni could speak plainly with the king, deliver a message from you Mistress...extending an olive branch of good will out of sight of the chittering courtiers.” Diaval inclined his head towards his love’s attendant, “I’m certain that would not be too difficult a task for her, particularly if the king still favors feeding the ducks along the south wall’s pond.  I’ve seen him there in the past, when the heat of the day makes most retire indoors.”  

 

Diaval had little trouble retaining a human form, or changing back to his native corvid.  It was the dragon and other massive creatures he had difficulty with.  Though he no longer needed to be her wings, the crow would never stop being her eyes and ears throughout the castle.  He was practically indistinguishable from other crows to the untrained eye.  He’d been chased out of corn fields by several farmers since the first day he’d met Maleficent, Diaval had just learned from that particular mistake.  

 

Nets could be quite hazardous to his health.  

 

“He often goes alone, clad in plain garb.” He added quickly.  

 

Winni scrambled to her feet, palms upturned in a silent plea.  Her blonde curls whipped around her face with the violent shaking of her head, and her cheeks were far too red -- almost splotchy -- among the paleness that surrounded them.

 

“No, no I cannot do that, Mistress.  I mustn’t.  It was part of our bargain.  He told me, I may work in the palace, so long as I did not seek him out for company.  He has a great deal expected of him now, and I must keep my head down and do my duties.” 

 

“And you have been assigned to me,” Maleficent said sharply.  “If I order you to seek him out for this invitation, it will be your  _ duty _ to do so.”

 

Winni fussed a moment longer with the hem of her skirt, shoulders slowly sinking.  With a defeated slump (but did Maleficent detect a hint of hope in her cool eyes?), Winni nodded.

 

“As you say, Mistress.”

 

“There’s a girl,” Maleficent grinned, casting Diaval a sly glance.  “Diaval, might there be a crow about to escort our dear Winni to the pond this afternoon?”

 

He understood Winni’s vehement disagreement with this course of action, but she could not be punished.  She would simply have to explain to the king that she was following orders, and Diaval would treat her to a magnificent new gown from one of the many tailors that made gowns for the courtiers.  

 

The crow shook his head, cackling to himself. “Aye, Mistress, she’ll have the finest corvid escort you’ve ever seen.  She’ll be well protected and cared for.”  

 

Diaval didn’t give the girl a chance to protest again.  With a wave of his hand, the gifted magic he shared with Maleficent returned him to his preferred feathered-form and he flew to land on Winni’s shoulder.  He would let nothing happen to her, nor would he be in sight when the king was around.  Porphan knew of the fairy ambassador’s consort’s abilities to turn into varied feathered forms.  Thankfully, the pond was near a corn field...and a rather large murder of crows resided there.  

 

He’d be able to hide quite well. 

 

Winni didn’t have the courage to meet her mistress’ eyes again.  

  
This was going to be an absolute disaster.  


End file.
